Page 27 of Pioneer Summer

“Get a load of that!” breathed Yurka, flabbergasted. He groped for the doorknob, thinking to hide the pair from prying eyes—god forbid any children see this!—and was pulling the door shut when he banged his elbow loudly on the doorframe. Ira flinched. As the door clicked shut, a commotion ensued behind it.

Some troop leader she is!thought Yurka indignantly as he flew down the hall to the door of the cabin. He’d only seen them by accident, but he still felt awkward and wanted to get out of there as quick as he could.As if Ira would know what’s going on in her troop when she’s all wrapped up in her own personal life! Out gallivanting all night herself, devil knows where! How could Volodya allow such outrageous behavior in his own room?

When Yurka got outside, he finally found Volodya, who was coming back to the cabin, dragging a little girl from his troop behind him. The little girl was sniffling and whimpering. Volodya’s lips were pressed in a thin line. The brooding troop leader, immersed again in dark thoughts, didn’t even look at Yura but called into the darkness behind the cabin: “Lena! I found her!” In the distance, the second leader of Troop Five said “Thank god!” in a voice shaky from worry.

Yurka had no intention of getting involved in the troop leaders’ drama, so he just waved at Volodya in parting. Volodya responded with a silent nod and went into his cabin. Yurka headed off to his own.

But Ira Petrovna still managed to head him off before he got there. She was standing on the ground in front of his cabin’s porch, and even in the dim glow of the weak porch light he could see she was blushing as red as the petunias growing in the flower beds by the porch steps.

“Yura, a word,” Ira called quietly.

“What?” he said curtly.

Ira Petrovna, usually so forthright, was now at a complete loss: she shifted from foot to foot and kept opening her mouth, then closing it again without saying a word. She was horribly embarrassed. But even though she couldn’t talk, Yurka knew what she wanted to tell him.

“I didn’t see anything,” he announced firmly, poking the little triangles of brick edging the flower bed with the toe of his sneaker.

Ira sighed in relief. “It’s good you understand! Of course you saw everything. And you’re right, it’s not exactly appropriate—this is a camp, there are kids here. But you’re a senior camper, you’re a grown-up, after all! You see—”

“There’s no reason to go into all this, Ira Petrovna,” interrupted Yurka, to prevent her from continuing her awkward monologue. “You’re the grown-up, and I ... actually I just want to go to bed. The kids wore me out.” And with that, he headed to his bed.

Yurka was well aware that whatever Ira did with the phys ed instructor was none of his business, but it was still very useful for him to have the information. Just let her try to falsely accuse him now!

Nevertheless, as he fell asleep, Yurka again found himself thinking not about Ira but about Volodya. It was too bad they hadn’t had a chance to say good night to each other. But it wasn’t a big deal; they’d see each other the next day and write another scary story, even better than the first one.It’ll be so great to sit there with Volodya on the merry-go-round, chewing the fat and thinking up stories. If only it were already tomorrow ...As he anticipated the coming day, imagining how Volodya, deep in thought, would chew on his pencil, Yurka fell asleep.

It felt like only a second had passed when Vanka suddenly shook his shoulder: “Go out on the porch. Someone’s asking for you.”

“Ira again?” grumbled Yurka.

It took all his willpower to make himself get up and slowly, listlessly, his eyes still closed, start feeling around for his clothes.

“No. Volodya.”

“Volodya?” Yurka’s eyes flew open all by themselves.

He went outside and saw Volodya sitting on the bench by the flower bed. He heard the moths flying into the porch light, felt the soft thrum of their wings, saw the flickering shadows they cast. Yurka breathed in deeply through his nose—the fresh night air smelled of damp needles and fragrant flowers—and walked down the porch steps.

“I just stopped by for five minutes.” Volodya stood up from the bench and peered through the flickering light, then frowned, concerned, when he saw the rumpled Yurka. “Did I wake you?”

“No, it’s fine,” said Yurka, stifling a yawn and trying to smooth his tousled hair. “Did something happen?”

“No, no, I just stopped by to say good night, that’s all. We didn’t get a chance earlier ...”

“Where were you so long?” Yurka asked as he sat down on the bench.

“I was looking for my little runaway girl.”

“Agirlrunaway?”

“Yes, if you can believe it! This little girl Yulya in my troop. It’s Troop Five, so this is everyone’s first-ever session of camp, but Yulya’s having an especially hard time of it; she can’t settle in and won’t even try ... She isn’t friends with anyone, all she does is ask to be sent back home to her parents, and now she actually went and took off. When I found her, she admitted she’d tried to run away but got lost.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? I’d have helped you look. We’d have found her in two shakes if we’d both been looking.”

“There was nobody else to stay with the boys. But there’s no need for you to worry about it. First of all, we’ll be calling her parents tomorrow, so she can at least hear their voices over the phone. And secondly, it’s parents’ day soon. Yulya’s mother will come and calm her down. Or else take her back home. That’d be the best thing ...”

“Yeah ...”

The conversation faltered. It wasn’t awkward. They just didn’t feel the need to talk. It was too calm and peaceful to talk. The crickets were chirring brightly in the cool of the night. Far away there was a mournful howling, of either a dog or a real live wolf. Yurka didn’t know whether this was all actually happening or whether it was some trick of the imagination. He could’ve sworn he even heard the hooting of an owl. The only thing this night was missing was the crackle of a campfire.

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